Thrilled to have six poems featured in the wonderful Bold Monkey Review. Thankye to editor George Anderson. georgedanderson.blogspot.com/2025/01/feat...
Featuring: Strider Marcus Jones
CHANGELING TIMES
as these middle years back bleed,
the rags of old memories recede
into heirlooms handed on
forged in fondness, been and gone.
no time can turn back its mistakes
or mend the piece an action breaks,
to be the way it was before
its nature changed, to less, no more-
like fragments of the whole
tapestry, that reach out to find a role
in these changeling times
of lost roots and fading lines.
a trace of old hypnotic scent
and lived in words, now cold and spent,
separate in the centrifuge
of time through space and spinning blues.
the face and timbre of fate and facts
grow parallel and parallax,
when love leaves on opposite trains
in summer sun and grainy rains.
THE PATH, THE FENCE, THE FIELDS
we walk by the river
talking inside ourselves,
like rhapsodies in two reflections-
different, but the same.
the path, the fence, the fields-
unknown obstacles that stare
through then, and now, beyond-
have heard love chime before.
ahead the river breaks
going separate ways,
but we stick to the same side
in the willow woods
and farms of flooded fields-
with ascension stroking
each reaction
phosphorus in the rain.
ADUMBRATE LOVES SHALLOWS
goddess of the moon
fusion of light and shadow,
come now, light my room-
make darkness shrink and narrow.
gravitate to me
awake inside unnatural light,
half written, half unknown i be
eclipsed in doubt, but inward bright.
bring your blooms to this fallow bed
alone in fates sad stare,
wrap me in your ethereal thread,
to reset time and covet care.
adumbrate loves shallows
in my sanctum core,
where the pastels fade and pallow
without depth and shade on dwindling shore.
BOOTS OF HARLEY
this universe has no center
and you're not there.
this sun is only sunny on the hood-
its light can't bend more benter
to be fair
as time stops running rings in wood.
the floorboards creak
and pictures speak
when I stand in empty corners making room,
for ghosts that want to have my seat
when they come in from the street
after riding like Valhalla under sun and moon.
summer shoes,
with beards of barley
in their soley grooves-
still think they're boots of Harley
on electra glide down highway avenues-
with a woman's arms around my waist
singing Bob Marley
and promising me her taste.
foot down. legs braced-
rocking back the headboard on the bed and base
in the hanging of her breasts
where my head would rest,
her lips a vanished beauty of the past-
explode
unload
to this contrast-
that turns its empty pages in my head
unlit, as I lie in bed,
running out of Kerouac road-
i feel the beat
and go to sleep
with some more story told.
This Theatre of Show
i want to go
where love songs grow,
on the radio
into someone's heart.
i want to know
if i play too slow,
and fade before the glow
can flame and spark.
i mend a dream,
distil it, to mountains seen
through mind and eyes potcheen,
lotioned by loves mark;
with tongue dabbing gleam
in fast flowing stream
of sweet nectarine
from sun up through sun dark.
i want your glow
in the thoughts i know,
before they dim down low
and depart-
this theatre of show
above and below,
where we all act to know
our own part.
so many vines
in the times
i know,
grape, but fail to flower.
i taste their wine
in its summertime,
but show
i am just a shower.
The Mess of Thrown Off Clothes
i listen
to your love beads glisten
in the flotsam
of my room-
we make them
from samurai sword folds
at forge and loom
in the mess of thrown off clothes.
so many smoke me kisses
at portal doors,
and mithril wishes
on primitive floors-
take us back again
through heath and fen
to imitate
lost landscape-
cycle
and circle
sky and stone
outside and home-
in love in less
with your heavenliness,
and loneliness
durable under duress.
Strider Marcus Jones – is a poet, law graduate and former civil servant from Salford,
England with proud Celtic roots in Ireland and Wales. He is the editor and publisher of
Lothlorien Poetry Journal https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/. A member of
The Poetry Society, his five published books of poetry https://stridermarcusjonespoetry.wordpress.com/ reveal a maverick, moving between cities, playing his saxophone in smokey rooms.
His poetry has been published in numerous publications including: The Huffington
Post USA; The Stray Branch Literary Magazine; Crack The Spine Literary
Magazine;The Lampeter Review and Dissident Voice. His poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize x3 and Best of the Net x3.
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